Town Hall, Wednesday

[fjordicswagger]

On the ugh-side, it was Singing Day again. Tamsin was not a fan.

On the fun side, it turned out Bright Eyes wasn't a fan either.

Which meant Tamsin spent the entire day wandering around the office singing obnoxiously at the top of her voice. It was possible she wasn't even actually compelled to do so.

"I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

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[filleauloup]

Éponine was always singing to herself, so she never really noticed right away when one of these days rolled around. She was just here to deliver the mail -- which, for some reason she couldn't be bothered to discern, included three turnips and a half dozen baby potatoes today and therefore fitting it through a mail slot was a bit of a challenge.

"You're a ray of God lighting up the dust in the Vatican, and I'm a secret stairway down to a place where light has never been," she was singing half under her breath, but she paused and tilted her head in Bright Eyes's direction. "'s the matter with her?"

[fjordicswagger]

"She doesn't like singing," Tamsin said, with a sad, sympathetic face that somehow managed to exude anything but sadness and sympathy.

[filleauloup]

"Hmph," Éponine said, or more accurately grunted; funny how she wasn't really picking up on a whole lot of sympathy here. Or sparing much herself, for that matter.

"Her loss then, that's what I think. Who doesn't like singing?"

Probably people who had to listen to your glass-gargling frog croak, Éponine.

"Anyway, someone's sent you vegetables in the post today, and damned if I know why," she added, and held up a plastic bag that had several envelopes and brochures unceremoniously dumped in along with the potatoes and turnips.

[fjordicswagger]

"Give it to Bright Eyes," Tamsin suggested immediately.

She threw the sobbing girl a look.

"I usually make her deal with the stupid stuff anyway, and she looks like she could use a distraction."

Yeah, no.